“I will do anything to help you,” he went on warmly. “But how can your quest prove conclusive? You will be a member of some party whose whole interest will be to cross the plains as quickly as possible. They will not want to stop to prosecute such a search; and do you realize the magnitude of such a task? You will have to cross hundreds of miles of desert, and explore a region that will some day be divided into seven or eight States larger than Ohio.”
“Men can be hired to go where I can not,” said Virginia reluctantly. Then she drew herself up imperiously, “I have thought of all you say, Mr. Benson, and in spite of obstacles the means of success will not be lacking, I am sure of that.”
There was a long silence. Benson rose and paced the floor. Virginia watched him gravely.
“It will be possible for you to raise sufficient money?” she asked at last. “I shall need a large sum.”
“I beg your pardon—oh, yes,” when she had repeated her question. Benson paused in his rapid walk.
“I suppose you know how absolutely helpless you will be,” he said. “How dependent on mere chance kindness, on mercenary interest, Mrs. Landray? I appreciate your heroism—it is beautiful—believe me I am not unmindful of that; but it is altogether impractical. If any one goes, a man must go. A man who will be superior to chance kindness or purchased interest, who can conduct the search himself from beginning to end, and who will not have to trust any one.”
“But where could I find such a man?”
The lawyer's face flushed.
“Would you trust me, Mrs. Landray?”
“You—Mr. Benson?”